


Nine

by PepperRiley



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperRiley/pseuds/PepperRiley
Summary: You're a numbered lab experiment looking to close The Gate, life couldn't possibly be more complicated when Steve Harrington comes into your life and shows you what love is.





	Nine

            There were only three things you knew for certain:

_The gate had reopened under Starcourt Mall._

_It was up to you and El to close it._

_And you were in love with Steve Harrington._

*

It was autumn of 1985 and you had arrived in Hawkins, Indiana not by chance, but through a carefully orchestrated plan, or at least, disjointed scraps of one. Either way, it was intentional. You’d escaped life in an underground lab roughly thirty miles outside of town limits, perfectly aware of the hotbed of activity that stirred beneath its surface. You’d heard the son of a bitch that had kept you captive for the last nineteen years talk about Eleven, about how he needed to get her back, and of his plans to find the missing numbers.

            It would be hard to hunt them with a broken neck and you saw to that. You spit in his face as you watched him gurgle his last breaths, his eyes begging for your mercy. He’d find none as you turned away from his pathetic gasps and slipped away into the night.

            Regardless of whether or not Dr. Brenner was dead by your hand, the gate was tearing itself open and you needed to find someone to help you close it, ending this nightmare forever. There was only one person with the power to do so: Eleven. She was stronger than you. She could do things you couldn’t dream of.

            You were Number Nine and you couldn’t move a goddamn thing with your mind. You were a tool, not a weapon.

            The only clues you had that could lead you to her were names scribbled in her file and the passing snippets of conversations you’d overheard about them. One name in particular had been underlined in red. He would be the bait. He was who Brenner had been preparing to use against her. You needed to find Michael Wheeler.

            You stumbled into Hawkins Junior High, running on adrenaline and half-cocked idea. It was between classes, so teachers and students were hurriedly milling about. You spotted a kind looking man with a thick moustache and rushed to him. “Excuse me, sir,” you peeped, trying to make yourself seem as small and trustworthy as possible.

            “How can I help you, young lady?” He glanced at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

            “I just graduated,” you lied. “I’m actually looking for my cousin, Mike Wheeler.”

            This gentleman was Mr. Scott Clarke and he was plenty familiar with Mike Wheeler. He was also unreasonably gullible. “Michael certainly has a lot of cousins,” he chuckled to himself. “He’s actually got class with me in five minutes.” He looked past you and nodded. “Oh, there he is now.”

            You spotted five teens loping down the hallway, you assumed the other three boys were named Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, and William Byers, but you couldn’t place the redheaded girl with them. All you knew was that she was not Eleven. You were also unsure which one was Mike.

            You walked up to the group and said, “Mike, there you are,” waiting for one of them to respond. The lanky boy with the dark bowl cut frowned indignantly.

            “Who are you?” Mike asked as curtly as humanly possible. This kid had spunk. You liked that.

            You covertly pulled back the hem of your sleeve and dropped your eyes to your wrist, signalling him to peek at it. Etched in your skin was a tattoo that read: 009. The others moved to get a glance, but you flinched your wrist away quickly. “So, Mike, can you help me find my friend? I have something important to tell her.”

            He understood the gravity of the situation and his heart raced at the thought of something happening to El. “Parking lot, after school,” he offered, willing to embark on another dangerous adventure if it would keep El safe.

            “See you then,” you told him, hurrying to the parking lot to wait, leaving the group staring after you.

            At quarter to three, you noticed a burgundy BMW roll into the lot. You paid no mind until a remarkably handsome boy climbed out of the driver’s side door and sat on his hood, lighting a cigarette, a habit he’d picked up again after Nancy Wheeler had dumped him. He noticed you leaning against the fence and gave you a friendly nod. You smiled and turned away, not needing a pointless distraction from the task at hand. But you were still human and as the minutes clicked by you found yourself glancing over your shoulder at his teased locks and pouty lips. He caught you looking and slid off the hood, assuming your subtle turns were an invitation. He flicked his smoke and sauntered over to you. “Hey, haven’t seen you around before.”

            “I’m new.” You looked to the front doors, hoping Mike wouldn’t slip past you.

            “Steve.” He smiled. “In case you were wondering.”

            “I wasn’t, but it’s nice to meet you, Steve.” You forced yourself to keep your attention locked on the school.

            “You got a name?” he asked, expectantly. You were sure Steve’s pretty little face didn’t hear ‘no’ often.

            “Nine,” you said, thoughtlessly and you scrambled to cover your tracks. “Uh. Nina.”

            “Cute.” He grinned, leaning against the fence, obstructing your view. “Who you waiting for?”

            “My cousin.”

            “Who’s that?” This boy was persistent and starting to get on your nerves, no matter how handsome he was.

            “You don’t know him,” you snipped, but Steve was undeterred.

            “I’m sure I do, try me,” he teased, nibbling on his bottom lip, trying to endear himself to you.

            “Mike Wheeler,” you replied, frustration eking into your voice.

            “Shit. You’re Nancy’s cousin, hey?” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Your family tree is the gift that keeps on giving.” He grinned and you had to ignore the pang of yearning he’d stirred in your chest. You’d never had the chance to flirt before. You’d only seen romance on TV in the brief periods you were allowed to watch. You bet that Steve was really good at it, looking like a movie star and all. It hurt to look at him, his inquisitive eyes forced you to accept you weren’t a normal nineteen year old and this didn’t matter. Maybe in another life you could have returned the smile and let him charm you to pieces.

            You also had no idea who Nancy was, but you were apparently related to her. “Mmm, yeah. Nancy and me. We go way back.”

            “You guys ever talk about me?” He winked, picking the wrong day to wear his heart on his sleeve.

            “Why would we?”

            “Ouch,” he chuckled, taking his defeat like a champ.

            You heard the bell ring and you needed this guy to get the hell away from you, taking his hopeful glances with him. “Look, Steve or whatever, I’m sorry. I have no idea who you are or why Nancy would talk to me about you, but I gotta find Mike.” You pushed off from the fence and moved closer to the entrance.

            He huffed, feeling obtuse. “Well, if you wanna find him faster he’s getting a ride with me.”

            You turned to face him and he jingled his keys. “Wanna tag along?”  
  
            You found yourself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car with Mike and Dustin perched in the backseat. Their bikes had been stolen a week ago and they’d pleaded with Steve to chauffer them around while they did odd jobs raising money for replacements. Today they were heading to Chief Jim Hopper’s to rake his lawn. Jim had already secretly committed to overpaying them because his hidden tender heart couldn’t let either of these boys suffer.

            Mike had promised you this was where you needed to accompany him to if you wanted to speak with El.

            “Why do you want to talk to El?” Dustin asked, morbidly curious and always prepped to throw himself feet first into the fire.

            “She’s a number like El,” Mike explained, immediately breaking your confidence.

            Steve whipped his head in your direction, suddenly feeling remarkably foolish. “You have powers?” The car skidded as he turned the wheel with his body. Mike and Dustin yelped as Steve course corrected. “Sorry!” He tore his eyes from you and refocused on the road.

            “Yes, I have a number. Yes, I have an ability and if any of you tell anyone there’s going to consequences.” You spun around to shoot daggers in Mike’s direction. “So keep your mouth shut.”

            “What can you do?” Steve asked, marvelling at you out of the corner of his eye.

            “Hopefully you don’t have to find out,” you whispered, dropping your eyes and running a finger along the tattoo you so hated.

 

            Jim greeted everyone at the door, but his body stiffened defensively and his gaze turned suspicious when it fell on you. “Who might this be?” He asked, trying to keep a steady tone. No one had to tell you this man was a cop.

            “She needs to talk to El,” Mike urged, trying to push into the house.

            Jim’s mouth was set in a hard line and he filled the doorway with his intimidating frame, clapping a hand on Mike’s shoulder and skidding him back onto the porch. “Who in the hell is this?” he demanded.

            You pulled up your sleeve, unmasking your tattoo. “I’m here for her help.”

            He huffed concernedly and waved you inside, Steve and Dustin trailing along behind. Dustin thrived on getting involved. Steve resented it, but accepted that shit just happened to him, now so he might as well prepare for battle. He’d done plenty foolish things for pretty girls in the past and he wasn’t about to let you be the exception.

            Steve was expertly skilled in biting off more than he could chew and standing in harm’s way, cementing his place as an invaluable member of the team. Dustin was an encyclopaedia of knowledge and always quick with a plan. Mike was the master of blind self-sacrifice and Jim Hopper was brute strength and stronger bonds to the ones he loved. These men were your back up. Eleven was your ace.

            You sat across from El, immediately bonded to her. As her hand slid into yours, it felt like you were coming home. She revelled in your touch, which carried an understanding only the two of you could share. You explained the lab you’d been kept in and how you’d discovered that some of you had been kept apart should things go awry, but there was a question burning in El’s mind that needed resolution.

            “Papa?” she managed, fear and hatred snaking around her now timid voice.

            “He’s dead, El. I swear it.” She’d heard this before and her wide eyes searched your face suspiciously. “I killed him myself.”

            Steve swayed nervously at this revelation, while Jim, Dustin, and Mike didn’t bat an eye. El had killed so many people that murder was just part of the menu with a Number in your life.

            The afternoon illuminated the facts: the gate was going to reopen and the exact location of the tear was unknown.

           

            You’d been offered a place to stay with Jim and El, which you happily accepted. El was still mostly housebound for fear of discovery, Jim was required to police the town, and Dustin and Mike were in school. This left you and Steve to scour the town for the location of the gate’s new blight on Hawkins.

            The first place the pair of you checked was the old lab to no avail.

            “Are you sure?” Steve asked, peering through the fence.

            “I’m sure,” you barked, offended that he’d question your intuition. “I can sense these things.”

            He laughed. “Don’t get mad, I’m only trying to help.”

            “Then don’t annoy me,” you warned, moving along the fence, disappointed with your defeat.

            He grinned, pleased to be bothering you. If he was annoying you, he was under your skin, if he was under your skin, you couldn’t ignore him. Steve would sometimes forget that the world ending took precedence over his love life. “You hungry?” he asked, kicking at stones under his feet.

            You were so you stopped and faced him, trying to hide your excitement at the prospect of food. “Yes.” You hadn’t succeeded.

            “Let me feed you,” he offered, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the trees back to his parent’s house. You liked how your hand felt in Steve’s. His was much bigger than yours and you felt safe with your delicate fingers laced with his. You squeezed tight and he squeezed back, acknowledging your touch.

            Steve didn’t live with his parents anymore, but he had a spare key and a craving for burgers, so he unlocked the door and led you into the biggest house you’d ever been inside. You wondered at the space, overwhelmed by the thought of growing up in a place with sprawling staircases and big open windows. This was a harsh contrast with your concrete cell and the flickering florescent light that buzzed above.

            Steve noticed you shiver and moved to you. “Hey, Nine, are you alright?” He ran his hands up and down your arms, attempting to comfort and you moved into his touch, resting your head against his chest, looking to be held while you mourned for your childhood.

            Steve let you take the lead, unsure why you were upset, but willing to be your shoulder to cry on. He rubbed a comforting hand down your back and whispered, “It’s okay. You’re safe.” Resting your cheek against his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat calmed you and you believed him.

            You looked up at him and stepped out of his grip, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “Thank you,” you sniffed.

            His warm smile put any other doubts to rest. “Come on, you need to eat.”

 

            Weeks marched on with no sign of activity, but searching for the rift had moved from top priority to obsession. Spending your time with Steve was your favourite part of every day and you were becoming increasingly worse at hiding your excitement whenever he picked you up. You’d giggle and dither at every joke, blush at every wolfish grin, and swoon under every touch. You had your first crush and no idea how to stop it from engulfing you. Instead you let it burn while you fell asleep every night daydreaming about his perfect mouth and all the stupid things it would say.

            Jim was sick to death of hearing you gush about Steve every night and finally asked you point blank, “Nine, you got it bad for Harrington?”

            Your mouth dropped open and you caught it with a train wreck, “What? No. No, I don’t. Ew. Stop it.” You were red as a beet and Jim brayed over your flustered fury.

            “Well, he likes you, too. Be careful, kiddo.” He ruffled your hair and took your plate. You hadn’t touched a thing. You’d been too busy explaining Steve’s opinions of _Back to the Future_ to touch your dinner.

 

            With no sign of activity, Steve’s parents out of town, and El’s desperate need for normalcy, The Party was taking advantage of Steve’s swimming pool on this brisk Saturday afternoon. You’d never been swimming for fun and the idea of submerging yourself in water for leisure was daunting. El had moved past her fear and was happily splashed with Max Mayfield in the deep end.

            You opted to stay on dry land and Steve brought you a soda. “Wanna jump in?”

            “No, thank you. But you don’t have to sit out with me, I’m happy to watch.”

            “Naw,” he declined, taking a seat on the end of your lounge chair. He pressed his cold can of soda to your bare leg and you gasped at the sensation. He laughed at his mischief while you shoved him to the ground with your feet.

            “Jerk,” you pouted as he pulled himself from the ground.

            “Come on.” He yanked you out of your seat and led you inside. “Let’s watch a movie.”

            Steve popped some popcorn while you looked on, excited to watch the kernels snap and push the lid of the pot away. Steve caught himself staring, he was transfixed on your innocent wonder at the simplest of things. His crush was going to break him if he didn’t take a chance and he committed to brazen stupidity.

            Steve stumbled over his feet as he moved to you. He went down hard, cracking his forehead against the corner of the kitchen island. You looked on in horror as he blinked blood from his eye as it trickled down his forehead from a deep gash the corner had torn into his skin. The colour drained from his face and his skull began to throb.

            You hurried to him and took his face in your hands. “Hold still.”

            He held your eye and your nose began to bleed while you wiped at the cut on his forehead. He winced under your delicate touch, but the pain was waning. He thumbed the blood pooling on your upper lip. You leaned forward and left a gentle kiss on his forehead, the wound had been sealed. “All better,” you smiled, leaning back on your haunches. He wondered at you, in awe of your abilities and your grace.

            Your eyes locked for a beat before he surged forward, taking your face in his trembling hands, and he kissed you. The kiss was urgent and maddening, it was everything fall had alluded to, every word that went unspoken, every touch that had lingered a second too long. You parted your lips and his tongue explored your mouth as you sighed into him. You clutched handfuls of his t-shirt, keeping him impossibly close. He sat back against the cupboards and pulled you into his lap. Your blood painted his lips, but he didn’t mind. Your mouth was finally on his.

            You’d never been kissed, but instinct and hormones took over and kissing Steve felt like the one thing you were always meant to do. It wasn’t awkward, it was desperate and necessary and Steve knew how to kiss. His perfect mouth guided yours and the two of you fell into a rhythm only the other could have understood. It was a dance and he’d swept you off of your feet, the fervour and the frenzy reaching a fever pitch as your tongues moved and your hands explored.

            You were straddling him, rubbing against his ready girth, and delighting in a rhapsody of sensations snaking their way up your spine and tingling to your toes. Steve’s hands slid under your t-shirt as you whimpered against each other’s hungry mouths, when you heard the sliding door. You skittered off of Steve’s lap, coming to a rest against the fridge, as Dustin wandered into the kitchen.

            Dustin’s eyes were as wide as two cherry pies as he took in the sight of you both panting with blood smeared all over your guilty faces. “What in the hell is going on in here?” he demanded.

            “I, uh, fell,” Steve said, pulling himself up and offering you a hand. You accepted and wiped at the blood on his lip with your thumb.

            “And Nine caught you with her face?” Dustin laughed.

            “You could say that,” Steve offered, shooting you a sly look.

            “Gross.” Dustin explored the fridge for a soda.

 

            Your first crush became your first kiss, then your first boyfriend and your first lover. Steve was gentle and sweet as you offered yourself to him. He couldn’t believe himself worthy of your affection and he fell hopelessly in love with you as you moved together under his covers. He whispered you tender confessions and showered you with gentle kisses as you discovered your favourite reason to tremble. You’d never felt anything like the hot coil snapping in your core and unleashing waves of pleasure along every desperate nerve in your glistening body. And Steve wasn’t prepared for how many times you’d want to feel it. He loved how clingy and affectionate you were, because you were the first person that felt as big as he did. You’d crawl into his lap and nibble on his neck until he happily gave into your insatiable demands. Afterward the two of you would bask in the afterglow, petting each other’s jubilant faces until you drifted off to sleep.

            Your life was finally perfect. So perfect, in fact, that you’d forgotten the dangerous task at hand.

 

*

            The Starcourt Mall was harbouring the treacherous split and your party was sparse. Your battle worn bodies were only five strong and your meagre army consisted of Jim, Eleven, Mike, and Steve. Dustin had uncovered the location, but hadn’t made it to the battle; his arm was broken as you moved to The Gate, after hours, under the cover of darkness, and you’d had to pour yourself into his recovery. You were weak and begged him to go home and warn the others to prepare themselves for the worst should the rest of you not succeed.

            Steve clung close to your side, nail bat at the ready, trying to push the worry from his mind as you struggled to recover your energy. “You going to be okay, baby?” He’d asked too many times.

            “Steve, I’m fine, please don’t worry about me,” you pleaded as you explored the basement hallways.

            Eleven tore through a heavy door and the five of you stumbled into a large boiler room, glowing red with heat and danger, it wasn’t The Gate, but it was a crack and as you went to back out of the room, a Demogorgon hurried through the thickness vining up the wall. You were nearest to the monster and Steve was ready to fight for you.

            Steve always spun the bat. It was a tick that prepared him for the fight to come, a split second to pump himself up. Today that split second would cost him everything.

            He pushed you out of the way as the Demogorgon advanced on you and in the beat he took to prepare his heroic swing, the bat was knocked out of his hands. Panic washed over him and he dove for his trusted weapon.  
            “Steve! No!” you screamed, but as he scrambled for it, it was already too late. The Demogorgon flung Steve against the wall and you heard his bones splinter as he crashed into it. He rag dolled to the floor where he lay, unmoving.

            Everyone yelled for Steve over the din, but you were the loudest, howling his name in horrified desperation, but there, crumpled among the rubble, he didn’t respond.

            The monster loomed toward Mike and El stepped between them as Hopper took aim and pulled her back, emptying his revolver into its screaming visage. El steadied herself and disintegrated the evil that had torn Steve away from your party.

            You collapsed in grief and pulled yourself across the floor to him. “Steve,” you whispered, pulling his battered body onto your lap. You took his face in your hands, his eyes were closed and a dribble of blood eked out of the corner of his mouth. You cradled his body and wept. “No, no, no, no, no. Please, Steve. Please. I need you to wake up.”

            Steve Harrington had died for you.

*

            Steve Harrington, nineteen: dead.  
            He knew it from the second the bat was knocked out of his hands that he was done. He hoped before hitting the wall that whatever happened next, you were safe. He felt himself hit the concrete and his body break, but it only hurt for a split second. Hearing you scream his name before it went dark hurt so much more.

            But before the curtain came down, the entire show played before his eyes. It almost had a happy ending, too.

            He recalled hitting his head against the counter, the blood trickling down his forehead, and your hands on his face as you moved to heal him. What he wouldn’t give to feel that again. He was certain you’d be touching his face right now, but this time he wouldn’t respond. You must be devastated.  
            He remembered your first kiss. There was the turn, the look, and the point of no return as he took your face in his hands and your lips met, followed by your tongues, and for the first time his fingers found their way into your hair as you moved into his lap and let yourselves melt into one another.

 

            Then you were making out in his car. On his couch. In his bedroom. Anywhere and everywhere. You were hopelessly wrapped up in one another.

            Your clothes dropped to the floor for the first time. He smiled, so happy to be worthy enough to be lying next to you. He slid inside, you gasped his name, and he took you over the edge three times the first night you’d spent together.

            He heard every laugh and every sigh that had ever slipped past your beautiful lips. He saw every smile and every pout you’d ever shot in his direction. And he felt every caress you’d ever blessed him with.

            The two of you were happy.

            He was in love.

            He should have told you.

           

*

            You pet his hair while you wept, agonizing for him. “Please, you can’t leave me.”

            You choked on your sorrow as Jim tried to pull you off of Steve’s lifeless body. It pained him to see Steve lying there, but he would have to grieve later. “Nine, we have to go,” he said as gently as possible amidst the urgency as he tightened his grip on your arm and attempted to pull you from the floor.

            “No!” You wriggled free from his grip and pulled yourself back to where your fallen lover lay.

            “We don’t have time! I’m sorry, but he’s gone,” Jim stifled a sob.

            You couldn’t even hear him. You were a thousand miles away wishing you could see Steve’s mischievous grins and promising glances one more time. Your mind reeled. Anything but this.

            You ran your fingers through his hair, letting your hands drift to his beautiful face, tracing his jaw with your fingers. “Please wake up,” you begged. “I love you.” You’d give anything to have told him sooner.

            Jim couldn’t watch you self-destruct from grief any longer and he had to catch up with his daughter before she brought the entire building down. He danced in the doorway and promised himself he would come back for you. He owed that much to Steve.

            Your mind raced as you cradled Steve’s fragile body. Life was so cruel. Had you known what it meant to love someone before giving him your heart you would have taken it all back and pushed him away. You never would have let him follow you to the end of the earth.

            You’d never brought someone back from the dead and you didn’t know if it was possible, but you had to try. The reality was clear, Steve was already gone, you were feeble from healing Dustin, and therefore it was likely if you tried to bring Steve back, you’d have to trade your life for his. A broken arm took incredible energy, but recovering a still heart would take everything.

            You pet the bridge of his nose and settled into your choice. Steve wasn’t a weapon; he was a good boy that didn’t deserve to die like this. Your entire life had existed to prevent death, to undo pain, and you couldn’t imagine a more tormented existence. Steve Harrington had to come back.

            You were prepared to die.

            You took in his face for what you feared was the last time. You wanted to remember him. You traced his features with your shaking fingertips and whispered, “I love you.”

            You kissed his lifeless lips as your tears fell on his face and you felt the warmth returning to his mouth as you poured yourself into him. You pulled back, keeping a hand on his chest, losing yourself. The room was growing fuzzy and your head started to swim, but you heard a meagre breath rattle in his throat and suddenly there was movement in his chest. His heart was beating.

            Steve’s eyes popped open. He was terrified and disoriented, but relieved to see you hovering above him, everything was going to be fine if you were here. He stared up at you as sensation returned to his body. He clenched and unclenched his fists, surprised to have feeling in his fingers. He reached up and touched your face, wiping your tears away. “Nine,” he sighed, never happier, never more in love.

            You got to hear him say your name one last time before it all went dark.         “Steve,” you smiled weakly, at peace with your decision now seeing his hopeful face one final time. He moved to kiss you, but you collapsed to his chest, feeling his heart beat against your cheek as yours ceased. He was spared.

            “Nine?” Steve sat up, bringing you with him, raking his fingers through your hair. “Nine?!”

            He cupped your face in his hands, terrified that you weren’t responding. Reality washed over him, draining the colour from his cheeks, and the hope from his eyes. He knew he’d been dead moments ago and what you must have done to bring him back. “No! No, what did you do?”

            He frantically searched your face, begging for anything to be different. “Baby, please,” his voice was strangled and he began to shake. He held you tight against him and rocked with you, weeping into your hair. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to trade.” He died all over again as you lay against his chest.

            He heard movement at the door and looked up to see Mike, El, and Jim skidding into the room, absolutely in awe that he was awake. His eyes pleaded with them to undo your selflessness. “El, fix her,” he begged.

            Jim’s heart tore itself in two. He shouldn’t have left you. He should never have let Steve come. He’d carry this guilt around for the rest of his life.

            El had to register what she was seeing. Someone she loved was dead. Someone she didn’t save. She’d closed The Gate, but this soured her victory and her tender little heart splintered into a million pieces. She knew this hurt and she knew she didn’t have the power to fix it. “I-I can’t,” she told Steve, hating everything. It was so much worse to love.

            Steve howled and Mike ran to him, understanding this pain. “Steve, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around him from behind and Steve fell back against him, still holding your precious body to his chest.

            Jim hurried over and offered Steve a hand. “I’m so sorry, son. We have to go. This whole goddamn mall is coming down.”        

            Steve looked up at him, bleary eyed and utterly defeated. “Just leave me.”

            “I’m not going to do that,” Jim told him as he reached down and tugged at the collar of his jacket.

            Mike stood as El came over, looking lost. He wrapped her in a hug and let her cry against him.

            “I don’t care if I die here,” Steve hiccupped, his voice hoarse from sobbing.

            “Then everything she did was in vain. I wish this was different, Harrington, but I’m not going to let you stay! We’re going.” Jim pulled him off the floor, allowing Steve to cling tight to your body.

            Steve scooped you up, refusing to let your final resting place be in the basement of this hell scape among the horrors that had stolen you away from him.

            Everyone hurried through the flickering hallways and out of a back entrance into Jim’s truck. Steve crawled in the backseat and lay you across his lap. He traced your delicate features with his clumsy fingers and whispered to you. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting his tears drip onto your cheeks. “I never got the chance to tell you I love you.” He could barely articulate between sobs, “I should have said it, because I do. I love you so much.”

            Mike and Eleven wept in the passenger seat, unable to fathom ever being apart again. Mike ached for Steve, understanding how it felt to lose the one you loved and he let a sliver of himself hope that you’d come back, just as El had. But this was different. You were cold and broken.

            Jim turned the engine over and tried to keep it together. He had to be brave for everyone as he fell to pieces inside.

            Steve tore his gaze from your peaceful face to the front seat. “Will she ever wake up?” He needed someone to lie to him.

            “I don’t know,” El offered. She refused to tell him ‘no’.

            Jim parked at the house, rushing El and Mike inside. His daughter needed to recover from the evening and Mike refused to go home and leave her side. More than ever, he had to stand watch, grateful to have her back in his life.

            Jim left Steve to stay with you in the back of his truck; he understood Steve needed to grieve.

            Steve’s sorrow transformed into denial and he spoke softly to you. “Remember yesterday when I promised you I’d take you around the world? Well, I can’t do that if you don’t wake up for me, so it’s time for you to stop being stubborn, okay?” he laughed pathetically. His mind was fractured and he was teetering on delirious.

            Your silence ate him alive and his mournful tears resumed. Steve howled his heartache in the solitude of Hopper’s backseat, cursing, gasping, drooling, and shaking until his body exhausted itself.

            He closed his eyes, rested his head back against the seat, and wished he were dead. There was no point in him being here without you. He gripped your cold hand in his and silent tears streaked his raw cheeks.

            He drifted off, with your head still resting on his leg, nearly as heavy as his heart, and he begged he’d never wake up.

 

            Steve slept fitfully, seeing your still body painted inside of his eyelids. He whimpered in his sleep, trying to get to you to no avail. His hand instinctually tightened around your own and you squeezed back, acknowledging his touch.

            Steve’s eyes shot open and he looked down at you, praying for the best, but expecting the worst. It must only be a dream. Although, he couldn’t stop his heart from hoping it was real. “Nine?” he whispered, breathlessly.

            You kicked yourself awake, face contorted with terrified confusion. Your eyes registered Steve staring down at you with equal doses of longing and hope.

            “S-steve?” you croaked, softly, voice hoarse and strangled.

            His breath hitched, sorrowful tears were replaced by ones of gratitude. Steve pulled you up into his lap and brushed a hand through your hair. You were chilly and trembling. “Oh, baby, you’re so cold.” He pulled you tighter, running a hand up and down your arm.

            “Steve?” You gripped into his shirt. You felt sick and frightened as you shook against his warm body. Your entire system was buzzing with electricity and Steve was holding you much too tight, as if he let go you’d fade away once again, but he could squeeze you to bits and it would be worlds better than the opposing reality. “I’m scared.”

            “Why are you scared?” he whispered into your hair, afraid to pull away to discover he was dreaming. He pressed desperate kisses to the top of your head trying to pour even a smidgen of life back into your shivering frame.

            “I dreamt you were dead,” you sniffed, tears welling up in your eyes as you nuzzled into his neck, feeling his pulse thudding against your lips, reassuring you the light of your life was safe and sound.

            His heart sank and he steeled himself. “I was.” You looked up at him in horror and he pressed his forehead to yours. “You were, too. You saved me because you’re an idiot that I never thought I’d get to see again.”

            All the moments that had flashed before you seconds before you woke up had been true. “I couldn’t live without you,” you confessed, staring deeply into his lovesick eyes.

            “Neither could I.” He brought a hand to your face and wiped at your tears with the pad of his thumb. “You left me and I can’t believe you’re back,” he smiled, dropping his mouth to yours and kissing you softly. “I am so in love with you,” he whispered.

            “You love me?” you squeaked, petting his handsome face, grateful to be feeling his warmth and hearing his voice.

            “With all my heart,” he promised you, brushing his nose against yours. He didn’t need you to say it. He knew. You’d given your life for him. “Let’s get you inside.”

            Steve helped you sit up, shrugged off his jacket, and wrapped it around you. He climbed out of the truck and motioned for you to scooch towards him. You wriggled to the edge of the seat and he scooped you up, relieved to be feeling you shifting against him and he carried you this time.

            He kicked a knock on the door with his foot and Jim swung it open. Jim’s face washed with relief and he stepped aside as Steve swept you into the house.

            “Look who decided to wake up,” Steve teased, his voice cracking from utter bliss.

 

            Steve set you on your bed and brought you every pillow he could find so you could rest comfortably. Your reunion with El would have to wait until morning, as she was fast asleep, needing her soul and body to recharge. Mike had exhausted himself keeping bedside watch and he was long since unconscious in a stiff wooden chair, wrapped in a raggy afghan.

            Steve curled up beside you, petting your nose, trickling his fingers along your lips, and tracing your jaw, absolutely, disgustingly in love. “How are you feeling?” he whispered.

            A pathetic laugh toppled past your teeth. “Anything is better than the alternative.”

            He smiled sadly, trying to keep the images of your unmoving body from his thoughts. “Do you need another blanket?”

            “I need you,” You wriggled closer and he threw an arm around you, hugging you tight to his chest. “Tell me you’ll never leave me again,” you quietly begged.

            “I will never leave you again.” He kissed your forehead and rubbed his hand down your back, warming you with comfort and reassurance.

            “I love you, Steve.”

            “I love you, too, Nine.”

            Your hearts beat together as you fell asleep holding one another. In all your years held captive in the lab, you never dreamed you’d be blessed with a happy ending, but there, wrapped in the arms of the boy who’d died for you, who you’d died for in turn, you realized that sometimes romance was even more glorious than the stories you’d seen on TV. Steve Harrington was your gift, he was the blood in your veins, and from that night forward, your heart beat only for him.


End file.
